


The Outbreak

by phantomthief_fee



Series: Saudade AU Fanworks [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, But ink, Drowning, It's kind of like a zombie apocalypse, Saudade AU, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: The day Joey infected the studio with his ink is one that none of the trapped souls will forget.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BornOfFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornOfFire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hopeful/Fearful (Saudade)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808792) by [BornOfFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornOfFire/pseuds/BornOfFire). 



[@bornoffireandwisdom](https://tmblr.co/myH-MF-wbGw8vQixb2Vh0zA) asked if I’d write something about the day in her Saudade AU where Joey finally released his ink plague on the studio

Also, I keep forgetting, but Scientific Journalist Murray Hill belongs to [@circus-craze](https://tmblr.co/m_vPXc3ZA7vlQj-W5J7EIOg)

* * *

There weren’t a lot of things that those in the ink remembered. Memories tended to blur together when they were all in the hivemind. Some were damaged, forgotten, or just suppressed by Joey. But if there was one thing that many of them still remembered, it was the day Joey had finally set his plan into motion. It was a memory etched into the minds of those who still had some level of sapience. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Lost Ones in the village to wake up screaming at the memory of that day. Even Wally, for all his positivity and bravado, was haunted by what had happened. 

The day had started ordinary enough. They’d been working day and night to meet a deadline that Joey had sprung on them. Everyone was tired, just barely managing to stay awake. Many of them had slept at the studio or hadn’t slept at all. Jack had just delivered the lyrics for the songs and had gone back to his desk, where he promptly fell asleep. Of all of them, his death was the least entertaining or grand. His death came when an ink pipe burst above his desk, allowing the ink to consume him. 

But the others hadn’t been so lucky. Joey had instructed Murray to infect Sammy first. The music director was exhausted, both physically and mentally, which made it relatively easy for the infection to take him over. All Murray had to do was introduce his virus into the ink, and get the ink on Sammy. It was easy enough. There was a pipe in Sammy’s office that was notorious for bursting at the most inopportune moments. Murray messed with the pump switches a little and the pipe burst. There was a brief instant where Sammy was about the yell and rage the way he usually did. Then he felt his thoughts begin to dull as the ink oozed all over him. He knew something was wrong. He instinctively knew this, and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. His body stood up and began to move on its own. 

_**Wait- No! What’s going on?**_ Sammy began to panic, trying to fight as his body moved out of his office and into the Music Department. It was like he was watching everything through a television, forced to be a spectator as his body began the mission it was now tasked with. 

“Mr. Lawrence? Are you okay?” One of the band members asked. “You don’t look so good.” Sammy’s body said nothing, tackling the band member to the ground and vomiting ink into their mouth. 

**_No! Leave them alone!_**  Sammy screamed, banging ineffectually against the wall separating him from the outside world.  ** _What are you doing?!_**

The people around them began to scream and yell, with quite a few employees trying to pry Sammy off of the band member. They did eventually succeed, but their relief was shortlived. Once Sammy had been removed from the band member, he started attacking the others. He scratched and bit, pinning targets when he could and vomiting into their mouths. Sammy’s consciousness watched helplessly as his body attacked his friends. He could feel the flesh giving way beneath his hands, the bones crunching as he leaned on their chests to force the ink down their throats. He grew even more panicked when Wally arrived. 

**_Don’t you hurt him!_**  He screamed as Wally approached. 

“Sammy, whatever you’re doin’…You need to stop.” Wally said, drawing closer with his hands up. Around them, other employees Sammy had attacked were getting up to infect others, like some kind of zombie apocalypse. 

**_Wally, run!_** Sammy tried to make his mouth move, tried to force some kind of sound out. He needed to warn Wally. He didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t want to hurt  **anyone**. But Wally was his best friend. The two of them were close enough to be brothers. And though Sammy snapped at him sometimes, there were few he cared more about.

Sammy began to cry as his body launched itself at Wally. To his credit, Wally put up a good fight. But he was no match for Sammy’s supernatural strength. Sammy managed to break Wally’s arm (the sound of the bone snapping and Wally’s scream still haunted Sammy’s dreams) and vomited ink into his mouth. 

**_Please, stop._**  Sammy begged. He grew even more terrified as Susie made her way down the stairs. He didn’t want to hurt her either! Thankfully, Wally managed to distract him enough that Susie got away with only a few scratches. Although, those scratches had already passed the infection on to her. 

Chaos reigned in the studio as the infected employees attacked their coworkers. Many tried to flee to the exits, only to find that they’d been locked with some supernatural force. No amount of force nor a key could open them. They were trapped. And in his office, Joey just sat back and smirked as he felt his employees enter the hivemind. They were his now. No leaving, no quitting. They were his, now and forever. If he could somehow get Henry back, then everything would be absolutely perfect. He’d have everything he wanted. Murray was waiting in the office with him with a clipboard, ready to study the effects once everyone had been infected.

“This is honestly kind of exciting,” Murray admitted, tapping his pencil on the clipboard. “I’ve never observed anything like this before.” It was clear from the tapping and the bouncing of his leg that he was still a tad nervous. No matter, he would so how amazing his work was soon enough.

“Just wait until it’s all finished,” Joey said, his smile widening. “I can assure you, it will be glorious.”

Right at that very moment, Grant was stepping into the Music Department. He’d heard the screams and, since he was nearby, he’d decided to investigate. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to do this. Grant was absolutely terrible with confrontation. He couldn’t fight either. He wasn’t sure what he’d thought he could do if there was something wrong. But he was worried, and he wanted to help. 

Grant had always been a meek and withdrawn sort of person. He’d been alone from the time he’d been very young, stuck in an orphanage until he was old enough to work. His only saving grace was that he’d always been a prodigy when it came to math. It was thanks to this that he’d been able to find a job. Finances were stable enough work, and he liked doing math. He liked working at Joey Drew Studios too. The people were lovely. Especially Shawn. Shawn had taken it upon himself to watch out for Grant due to the accountant’s lack of physical capabilities. Lacie, naturally a sort of mother-hen figure, had stepped in as well. The three of them were rather close, sometimes jokingly referred to as “The Butcher Gang” after the characters of the same name. 

Unfortunately for Grant, he didn’t have the rest of his gang there when he entered the Music Department. Shawn was still in the Heavenly Toys department and Lacie was working on one of Bertram’s rides. So Grant was by himself, which proved to be a very unfortunate thing. His heart pounded in his ears as he ventured tentatively forward. There were people all over the ground. All of them had more ink on them than was normal and some of them didn’t seem to be breathing. 

“H-Hello?” Grant’s voice shook. “What’s…What’s going on? I-I heard screaming.”

“Get out! Run!” Someone screamed, running past him. Others followed them, all telling Grant to run. Before he could decide whether to follow their advice, Sammy was on him. It didn’t take much force for the music director to push the accountant to the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Grant tried to protect his face as Sammy snapped and scratched at him. “What’s going on?” Sammy growled in response, ink dribbling down his chin.

“Please! Stop!” Grant begged. But Sammy did not. So, Grant began kicking and hitting as hard as he possibly could. Most of these blows did absolutely nothing. But Grant did manage to land a kick in the groin area and a blow to one of Sammy’s eyes, both of which dazed the other man. This allowed Grant to wriggle free of Sammy’s grip and run. 

“Help! Please! Someone!” Grant screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran. No one answered him. The only thing he heard was the screams of the other employees, all similarly begging for someone to help. He could hear the desperate jiggling of the doorknob, people banging on the doors. Grant stopped running as a terrifying realization hit him. 

**_They were going to die here._ **

“I don’t want to die,” Grant whispered. Suddenly, something grabbed his foot and he was abruptly jerked down, causing him to face-plant into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, causing him to gasp. His nose made a sickening crack as it collided with the wood. It likely wasn’t broken, but that didn’t really matter. He was rolled over, greeted by the snarling face of Sammy. Grant couldn’t say anything, so he could only watch as Sammy got to his feet and took hold of one of his ankles. Sammy dragged Grant over to an ink puddle and dropped his ankle. Grant’s eyes widened. He tried to get to his feet, but Sammy had already grabbed a fistful of Grant’s hair and was dunking him into the puddle. 

Grant screamed. A poor choice in retrospect. The ink filled his mouth and his lungs as he tried desperately to breathe. He thrashed about, but Sammy’s grip was iron firm. Grant wasn’t going to win this fight. Sammy had always been stronger than him, even as a human. As an inky monstrosity, Grant stood no chance of getting free. Sammy held his head under the ink until he stopped thrashing, then withdrew his body and threw him aside. 

This was how Shawn and Lacie found him. They’d heard the screams and, like Grant, had come to investigate. They too had seen the bodies, but enough time had passed that some of the employees had begun to transform into Searchers. Shawn and Lacie had been forced to fight their way to find Grant. Shawn wielded a pipe while Lacie had a wrench. 

“He’s gotta be here,” Shawn muttered to himself. As soon as they’d seen the bodies, they’d become worried for Grant’s safety. Grant had a good heart. They knew if he’d heard the screams, he would have wanted to help. 

“He’ll be here,” Lacie reassured him, grunting a bit as she swung her wrench at the head of one of her reanimated coworkers. 

“Drew’s behind this.” Shawn quickly switched gears, trying to distract himself from his worry about Grant. “He has to be.”

“I bet that Hill had something to do with it too.” Lacie’s expression darkened. 

“I knew there was something wrong with him!” Shawn punctuated this by hitting a Searcher in the jaw with his pipe. 

Together, they fought their way to where they found Grant. The accountant lay in a heap, his clothing drenched with ink. A nasty looking bruise was developing around the bridge of his nose and his eyes, and he had what appeared to be a split lip. Shawn was at his side in a moment, hooking Grant’s arm over his shoulder and getting him up. 

“We have to get him to the infirmary.” He said. Lacie nodded, putting Grant’s other arm around her shoulder. It wasn’t hard to get Grant down the stairs. He was a small man and rather thin. They managed to get him down and onto a cot. 

“He looks pretty rough.” Lacie’s expression was grim as she got Grant into what she hoped would be a comfortable position. Shawn was checking out Jack’s area to see if the songwriter was alright. Judging by the flooding of the ink, which had covered the stairs down to the sewers, Jack was a lost cause.

“He’ll be fine.” Shawn turned his attention to the stairs back to the music department. “We just need to find a way out, then we can get him to a hospital.”

“Do you think he’ll be safe here?” Lacie walked up behind him. “Those things can probably come down stairs.”

“We’re not leaving him here for long.” Shawn waved a hand dismissively, although it was shaking immensely. “We just need to check things out and then we can get out.”

“Alright.” Lacie nodded. She had a bad feeling deep in her gut, but she didn’t want to bring it up to Shawn. He had a bit of a temper when under pressure, and she would rather not argue with him in a situation like this. They needed to work together. That was what was important. 

They left the infirmary and went to check all the exits they knew of in the area. Every exit was locked, many surrounded by employees who had succumbed to the ink. The exit in the music department, which was down a staircase, had been flooded and was surrounded by former employees who’d tried to escape through there, only to succumb to the ink. Lacie and Shawn turned away from the creatures that had once been their coworkers. There was nothing they could do for them.

Desperation set in as they continued to search for an open door. No matter how hard they tried, though, they couldn’t find any way out. It slowly became clear to them that there was no way out, and they came to the same conclusion that Grant had. Both were beginning to panic, although Lacie was hiding it better.

“Bertram can take care of himself, right?” She said. “I don’t need to worry about him, do I?”

“He’ll be fine,” Shawn replied, although he wasn’t really listening. His mind was racing. Was this how he was going to die? This wasn’t how he’d wanted his life to end. He’d never really thought about what he wanted his death to be like, but he was sure he’d never wanted this. He was pacing and muttering to himself, passing the pipe from hand to hand. It was spattered with ink and what might have been blood. Watch him pace was honestly making Lacie even more nervous. 

“Let’s get back to Grant,” Lacie suggested, putting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder. 

“Right…Right.” Shawn took a deep breath, nodding his head. “Have to make sure he’s okay.”

“Exactly.” Lacie gave him what she hoped would be a comforting smile. 

Shawn smiled back, patting her hand. “You’re a good friend, Lacie.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Lacie snorted, pulling away from him. “Now come on. We gotta get back to Grant.”

When they returned to the infirmary, they found Grant sitting up. Shawn took this as a sign that he was better, running over to hug him. His joy and relief were short-lived, however, when he got closer and saw the ink covering the majority of Grant’s body and his glowing yellow eyes. Grant lunged for Shawn, letting out a strange roar. Lacie quickly pulled him back and out of the way.

“We need to go,” Lacie hissed, tugging the toymaker back. Shawn didn’t move, his mouth hanging open and his eyes fixed on the thing that had been Grant. 

“Shawn!” Lacie barked. Shawn stayed frozen, even as Grant prepared to lunge once more. Lacie muttered a curse, picking Shawn up and slinging him over her shoulder. She started running, heading for the elevator. She knew it was a bad idea, but she had to make sure Bertram was alright. Shawn began to cry quietly as she ran. She couldn’t make out any of the words he began to babble. It was all in Gaelic anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” She said. Shawn kept crying.

Despite escaping Grant, both Lacie and Shawn would eventually succumb to the ink, just like everyone else in the studio. Had Joey not kept all the doors locked, Lacie and Shawn (and others as capable as them in combat) might have escaped. But Joey had rigged the game from the start. Joey had never liked to play fair. When he wanted to win, he would go to any lengths to achieve his victory. There would be no survivors from this outbreak. All Joey needed now was Henry. 

_If you’re back in town, come visit the old workshop. There’s something I need to show you._


	2. Chapter 2

[@bornoffireandwisdom](https://tmblr.co/myH-MF-wbGw8vQixb2Vh0zA) had more ideas after my last [outbreak](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/184519953930/the-outbreak) story and I wanted to write them.

Once again, this Murray Hill belongs to [@circus-craze](https://tmblr.co/m_vPXc3ZA7vlQj-W5J7EIOg)

* * *

Joey was in a  **mood**. For the most part, he’d encountered rather little resistance in the corruption of his workers, but there were still little pockets of survivors. Such as the Benton woman, Connor and Pendle, and dear Bertie. Not to mention, his experiment with Susie hadn’t worked out nearly as well as he’d hoped it would. She was still strapped to the table, barely conscious and sobbing quietly. She did look like Alice, he’d managed that much, but he’d misjudged a few things and her face…

“I had such high hopes for you, Miss Campbell.” Joey sighed, leaning on the table. “No one was more devoted to Alice than you. But it appears you’re just not perfect enough.”

“Not perfect…enough?” Susie’s words were slurred, her speech hampered by the gaping holes on her left cheek. “But I’m…Alice.”

“Evidently, not Alice enough.” Joey cooed, sticking a finger through one of the holes to touch the exposed muscle and gums. How strange. Her body was composed of ink now, and yet it still felt like the flesh of a human. Although his finger came away wet with ink, not saliva. 

“Perhaps Miss Pendle will provide a better result.” He wiped his hand on his pants, ready to walk away.

“No!” Susie shrieked, struggling against her bonds. “Alice is mine! She’s mine! You can’t take her away from me!”

“Yes yes, of course.” He waved a hand dismissively. 

“YOU SAID I’D BE ALICE!” Susie screamed, almost managing to break her restraints. For an instant, Joey’s temper flared. The air in the room became heavier and Susie suddenly found it harder to breathe.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Miss Campbell,” Joey said calmly, adjusting his bowtie. “I did my best with you. But you just weren’t willing enough. This is your fault.” He left her shocked and whimpering as he went to check on Murray.

Since most of the studio had been corrupted by this point, Murray had moved on to running tests on the Searchers and those who hadn’t yet turned. His most notable test subject at the moment was Sammy, who’d been tied to a chair and was currently growling and straining against his bonds trying to corrupt Murray. Joey had ordered Sammy to sit down in the chair earlier and Murray had tied the music director up.

“Interesting.” Murray murmured to himself, noting a few things down on his clipboard. He’d put on gloves in order to be able to touch Sammy without being corrupted himself, although the protection they offered wasn’t nearly as much as he would have preferred. The ink was potent, and Murray would rather have had a full hazmat suit in order to observe the corrupted individuals. But he didn’t really have access to that so he’d made do with what he had.

The results of the virus on the employees truly was fascinating though, especially in regards to Sammy. Unlike the Searchers, Sammy still had a physical body under the layer of ink. His skin was deathly pale, dark veins standing out in stark contrast to the pale flesh. Ink leaked from Sammy’s mouth and eyes, as well as from any cuts he might have sustained. The Searchers themselves had bodies entirely composed of ink, as though their physical bodies had been dissolved. However, they showed signs of being able to form physical bodies if the need arose. The ink also seemed to be able to regenerate lost limbs of its victims. There were a few employees who’d been missing limbs prior to being infected and had regained them upon their transformations into Searchers. 

“Truly fascinating.” Murray leaned closer to Sammy, wiping away some of the ink around his eyes. Sammy took this opportunity to snap at Murray’s fingers, although Murray managed to snatch his hand away in time. 

“I’ll have to be more careful,” Murray muttered to himself, bowing his head to scribble furiously on his paper. Joey smiled as he entered, walking soundlessly up behind Murray and clapping a hand on the scientist’s shoulder. 

“You seem like you’re having fun.”

“Agh!” Murray fell off his chair, landing in an undignified heap on the ground.

“You really need to pay more attention.” Joey chided him as the other man clambered to his feet. “You never know what could sneak up on you.”

“I-I know.” Murray cleared his throat awkwardly. “Erm, I wouldn’t say I’m having fun exactly. But this is fascinating!” His whole face lit up. “I’ve never encountered anything like this before! The way their physical bodies seem to have been broken down and absorbed into the ink but they still have the ability to hold some sort of concrete form-”

“Mm-hm.” Joey made a vague noise of acknowledgment. He wasn’t paying attention to what Murray was saying anymore. He didn’t care how the infection worked, so long as he was in control of it. 

“Right…” Murray’s face fell and he bit his lip. “So…Is there a reason you came to visit me?”

“I just wanted to see what you were doing, make sure Lawrence wasn’t giving you any trouble.” Joey waved a hand toward Sammy. “I’ll be out for a bit. I have to locate Miss Pendle. Miss Campbell didn’t work out as Alice.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Murray shrugged, turning his attention back to Sammy. “Well, best of luck, Mr. Drew.”

“Make sure not to die.” Joey slapped Murray’s back. “It would be terribly inconvenient for me to lose you when we still have so much work to do.” Murray made a small squeak at the dark tone in Joey’s voice, hunching over his clipboard more. Joey smiled, starting to whistle as he left. 

It wasn’t too terribly hard to locate Thomas and Allison. Joey could see through the eyes of the Searchers and knew the couple was holed up on in Alice Angel’s meet and greet area. Allison had somehow managed to get ahold of a sword and was proving to be much more dangerous than Joey had thought she’d be. He’d anticipated Thomas putting up a fight, the man wasn’t exactly small or weak, but Allison was a surprise.

“Well well well. Look at you.” Joey’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “What a pair you both make.” It wouldn’t be too hard to overcome them, but it would certainly be irritating. Especially since Allison had a  _sword_. Where had she even found one of those? He allowed himself a small growl of frustration, stepping through one of the ink puddles and coming out in the Heavenly Toys lobby. As he stepped out, he felt the presence of a good many Searchers surrounding his quarry. More than he’d anticipated. Enough to easily overpower Allison and Thomas, if used correctly. 

For a moment, he was surprised. Then he began to smile. 

“Well, this might be easier than I thought.”

.

Lacie and Shawn were headed down to Bendy Hell. Lacie knew full well that Bertram was probably alright, but she had to check anyway. Besides, she and Shawn really needed a safe place to hole up for a little, and Bertram was their best bet. Most wouldn’t think Bertram was the sort who could handle himself in a fight, but Lacie knew what he hid under his suits. Shawn was almost catatonic, muttering to himself in Gaelic. 

“Shawn, you gotta keep up,” Lacie said, looking back at the toymaker. “We’re almost there.”

“Mm.” Shawn nodded vaguely. Lacie stopped walking, causing Shawn to literally run into her and stumble back. 

“I’m sorry about Grant.”

“‘S not your fault,” Shawn mumbled. “I should’ve been there for him. Shouldn’t have let him get hurt like that.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Lacie said firmly, putting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “This is Drew’s fault. He’s behind all of this.”

“I let this happen to him.” Shawn showed no signs of having heard her, staring into the distance with unfocused eyes. “The poor boy. I should’ve been there for him.” 

Lacie sighed heavily and withdrew her hand. “You’re going to end up getting yourself killed, Flynn.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” Shawn replied. Lacie’s head snapped up. Before Shawn could properly react, Lacie had slammed him up against the wall. Shawn let out a small yelp of surprise.

“Don’t you dare say that.” She growled. Her calloused fingers dug painfully into Shawn’s shoulders. 

“I’m not letting you die.” She leaned in close enough that their noses were almost touching. “You don’t get to just roll over and die. Not on my watch. Do you understand me?” Shawn stared at her, his expression flat and unreadable. 

“Do. You. Understand. Me?” Her grip on his shoulders tightened. Shawn winced, pressing his back against the wall and lowered his head. They stood there for a long time, Lacie staring at Shawn and Shawn refusing to look at her. 

“Shawn. Please. I can’t lose you too.” Lacie didn’t often beg. But she was tired. And she didn’t want to lose another one of her friends. Not after seeing what had happened to Grant.

“He needs someone to protect him,” Shawn said, his gaze still firmly on the floor. 

“For Christ’s sake.” Lacie took a step back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re just going to give up then? Just roll over and let Drew win?”

“Grant needs someone to keep him safe!” Shawn snapped. “Who knows what he’s going through right now! I can’t just leave him like that!”

“Fine! Go on and get it over with!” Lacie gestured around them. “This place is crawling with things that are dying to rip your throat out! I’m sure one of them would be happy to end your miserable life!” Shawn’s face twisted in a snarl. He spat at Lacie’s feet before storming off. Lacie watched him go, arms folded. 

It only took a few minutes for her to regret letting him go off on his own. She’d just let one of her best friends literally head to his death. Her throat felt tight. She should have stopped him. She should have tried to force him to come with her. But…No. He wouldn’t have given this up. Grant was his little brother in all but blood. 

“You’re such an idiot, Shawn.”  She muttered to herself, trying to blink away the tears. She took a deep breath. In through the nose and out through the mouth. She had to keep going. She was almost there. She just had to make it to Bertram.

.

Bertram had never been fond of Joey in the first place. In his opinion, the studio head was a spoiled brat with obsession and attachment issues. This ink plague certainly wasn’t helping his feelings toward the other man. He was almost certain that whatever this was, Joey was behind it. He had to be. Bertram had mostly been left alone by the creatures his coworkers had transformed into (they seemed to have enough sanity left to still be rather afraid of him), but there had been a few brave Searchers that had ventured into his ride storage area. Bertram had fended them back with a fire ax he’d pulled from a wall.

“Drew certainly has some explaining to do.” He huffed, shaking some excess ink off the ax. “I can’t wait to hear what excuse he has this time.” He glanced to the doorway. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. He had some food, yes, and a little water, but not enough to last him a substantial amount of time. Besides, once Joey figured out he hadn’t been taken, Bertram had no doubt the madman would come looking for him.

This wasn’t how Bertram had imagined dying. He hadn’t really imagined dying at all. He’d known it would happen, death was an inevitability, but he hadn’t really thought about it all that much. He’d mostly just assumed he’d die from old age, decades in the future. The idea of dying at Joey’s hands was infuriating. Bertram tried to focus on his anger. If he was angry, he couldn’t be scared. But the fear crept in nonetheless. There was no way out. Even if Bertram  **could**  make his way to the upper levels, Joey had likely sealed off all available exits. Bertram was powerless to stop whatever was happening. That was perhaps what terrified and frustrated Bertram the most. He couldn’t do anything.

“I hope Lacie’s alright.” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. That was another thing that had been nagging at him. He didn’t know what had happened to Lacie and the uncertainty was eating him alive.

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s doing quite well.”

Bertram froze at the voice. 

“ ** _Drew_**.” He turned around slowly, gripping the ax. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Joey, though. Or, at least, who Joey had with him.

“What’s wrong?” Joey asked with a sinister smile. “Aren’t you happy to see your little girlfriend?” He held Lacie by the hair, dragging her along as if she was a rag doll. Lacie was fighting back as best she could, but her movements were weak, and Bertram could see the black spreading through her veins. She was pale and sweating profusely. 

“Let her go.” Bertram’s expression turned positively demonic.

“Oh, you know I can’t do that.” Joey laughed. “She’s going to be a part of my family. And so are you. Besides, even if I physically let her go, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Bertie, run.” Lacie gasped. “Get…Get out.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Joey chided her, yanking her head up. Lacie let out a yelp of pain, trying desperately to dislodge Joey’s hand from her hair.

“Let her go!” Bertram yelled, taking a step forward. He had the ax up and ready, but his hands were shaking too hard to properly wield it.

“I already told you, I can’t do that.” Joey’s smile widened. “Now, are you going to join my family willingly? Or do I have to give you some…incentive?” His eyes darted suggestively over to Lacie. 

“You bas-” Bertram started to curse the studio head out, but Joey sharply cut him off.

“Language.” His expression changed to one of mild irritation. “Do I have to wash your mouth out with soap, Bertie?” That patronizing tone, the way Joey clicked his tongue and shook his head as though dealing with a little boy. Bertram saw red.

“I am a grown man! Do not speak to me as though I’m a child!” He roared, raising the ax and running toward Joey. Joey reacted calmly, taking a step back. Before Bertram could swing the ax down, he found himself faced with a different foe. Joey had dragged Lacie up, using her as a human shield. Bertram froze, the ax above his head. 

“Alright, incentive it is, I suppose,” Joey said. He smiled wide, showing all of his strangely white teeth. His eyes began to glow red and Lacie screamed. Joey’s grip on her hair tightened. Ink began to pour from every orifice of her body. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth. 

“Stop!” Bertram fell to his knees. 

“Join my family, then.” Joey’s voice was sweet and gentle. 

“I’m not going to join your damn family!” Bertram yelled, tears streaming down his face. Joey pouted, legitimately pouted. 

“I’m being reasonable.” He huffed, reaching down with his free hand to take Lacie’s arm. For a moment, Bertram was afraid Joey was going to snap her arm. Instead, Joey dug his nail into the flesh of her arm. Once he’d opened up a wound, multiple Searchers appeared around him. Leaning down, Joey allowed one of the Searchers to place a hand over Lacie’s wound. The dark veins bulged and Lacie screamed, her voice distorting as the ink spread across her body. Joey hummed to himself while Bertram watched in horror as the ink consumed his dearest friend.

“I asked you nicely, Bertie,” Joey said, letting go of Lacie. She fell to the ground in a heap before slowly getting back up. Her body was mostly covered in ink now, her eyes two uniform glowing circles. 

“Lacie?” Bertram whispered. 

“Not quite.” Joey grinned. Then Lacie launched herself at Bertram.

.

Joey had Bertram put into his precious octopus machine. As tempting as it would have been to have Bertram at his beck and call, Joey rather preferred having Bertram be immobile, forced to sit by himself and think. The mind was one’s worst enemy after all. And Bertram did think. It was all he could do. He sat in his ride, lamenting his fate and the corrupted body he now inhabited. He wasn’t a part of the hivemind, so he couldn’t even feel the comfort that came with the presence of the others. He only had the silence. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one is having a good time except maybe Joey.

[@bornoffireandwisdom](https://tmblr.co/myH-MF-wbGw8vQixb2Vh0zA) had a few more ideas about Outbreak, so I’m writing more!

I apologize that this took so long. 

This Murray belongs to [@circus-craze](https://tmblr.co/m_vPXc3ZA7vlQj-W5J7EIOg)

* * *

In retrospect, Murray Hill should never have taken this job. He should have known from the moment Joey made his pitch how this would end. He was being tasked with creating what was essentially an ink based zombie plague, with Joey at the helm of the hivemind it would create. But Joey had talked about making a family and breaking the bonds of death so that humanity could transcend. And as a scientist, Murray’s usual motivation did tend to be, ‘I wonder what would happen if I did this?’ His curiosity was hard to satiate and thus had blinded him to the sinister undertone to Joey’s words. He’d charged ahead without a thought as to the consequences of his actions. By the time he realized he’d made a mistake…he was in too deep. 

He really should have realized sooner that he wasn’t in the right, what with all the screaming and the crying. The employees he’d rounded up to experiment on, those who weren’t corrupted that was, were clinging to one another and sobbing. Some railed against their fates, spitting curses at Murray in languages he didn’t recognize. 

“You’re a monster!” One, a band member, screaming as they struggled against their bonds. 

“Progress requires sacrifice,” Murray mumbled off-handedly, using one gloved hand to flip over the employee he was studying. His current specimen was one of the inker girls in the last stages of the infection. She had a large gash in her side that was still bleeding, although the blood was quickly turning black. 

“Progress?!” The band member snapped. “You call  ** _this_** progress?!”

“It will be.” Murray glanced back at the band member. They were pale and sweating profusely, just barely holding on. They looked awful. 

“What do you think will happen when everyone here is corrupted?” The band member asked, their lip curling in a sneer. “Do you seriously think Drew’s going to let you share your  ** _great discovery_**  with the world? You think he’s going to let you publish papers about this?”

“I doubt he’d want to keep this discovery a secret.” Murray laughed, although it sounded rather uncomfortable. He honestly was a little uncomfortable with this situation. The band member looked practically on death’s door by this point. Their breath was coming in gasps, as though they couldn’t get enough air. They watched Murray intently, face twisting in irritation and rage. 

“You’re either too stupid to see you’re being used or a stone-cold psychopath.” They spat ink at Murray’s feet. 

“I’m not being used!” Murray said indignantly. 

“The second you’re not useful anymore…” The band member lifted their gaze to meet Murray’s, forcing the scientist to watch as the ink slowly consumed them. “You’ll end up just like us.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Murray scoffed, turning back to the inker girl on the table. “He wouldn’t do that to me.” But…would he? Joey had said this whole thing was about creating a family, finding a way to defeat death. This sure didn’t look like a family, though. 

“Mama.” The inker girl whimpered, her breath coming in quick gasps. Her voice was small and afraid. Murray felt his stomach begin to drop.

“I’m not a monster,” Murray said to himself, laughing nervously. “I-I’m not. I can’t be.” The inker girl began to vomit out ink, whimpering and crying as she did. God, she was so young. She couldn’t be more than 18. She was practically a child. She probably had a family that was going to miss her. An icy weight developed in Murray’s stomach. 

“Oh my god…” He took a step back. “What am I doing?” This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake. How had he not seen this before?! He felt like he was going to be sick.

“I have to get out of here.” He made for the door but stopped in the doorway. He couldn’t run. Joey would find him. The second he stopped being useful, Joey was going to kill him too.

“I’m going to die here.” His voice went up an octave. His breathing sped up. He was practically hyperventilating now. He was going to die here. He’d dug his own grave and all that remained was for Joey to put him in it. 

Speaking of Joey, he’d made his way down to Level 14 to gloat to his very first victim. Norman Polk had been a guinea pig of sorts. Technically speaking, he’d quit the studio months ago. But he’d come back to find evidence to prove Joey was planning something. He really shouldn’t have come back. Norman had found Joey’s journal, one that detailed all his plans, and Joey had caught him reading it. Murray wasn’t aware that Norman was still there. Hell,  **no one**  was aware that Norman was still there. He’d been reported missing after the first month and the police had come around, of course, because Polk’s little sister had said Norman had come back to the studio. But Joey had smiled and played the innocent victim and they’d gone on their way. After all, there was no way a sweet young man in a wheelchair could have done anything, right?

“Polk~ Where are you?~” Joey said in a sing-song voice as he slid down the railing to the labyrinth. It felt so good to not be confined to that damnable wheelchair anymore. There was no reply, which only made him smile wider. 

“Are you hiding from me, Norman?” He cooed, practically skipping in. “You should really know better. There’s nowhere you can go anymore where I can’t find you.” He heard the telltale whir of the projector behind him, easily catching the Projectionist’s arm as it arched down toward him. 

“That’s not very nice.” He clicked his tongue as though he were addressing a naughty child rather than a horrifying inky monstrosity. The Projectionist screeched, trying again to swipe at Joey. 

“Norman Norman Norman.” Joey sighed and shook his head, catching Norman’s other hand. “Really, you should have known by now that you can’t overpower me.” The Projectionist screeched louder, struggling against Joey’s grip. For someone so small and frail looking, Joey was surprisingly strong. Murray’s ink virus was likely to thank for that. 

“My Norman, have you gotten weaker?” Joey asked innocently. “I’m so much smaller than you. I shouldn’t be able to overpower you, should I?” He batted his eyelashes in the way that had always made the older society ladies coo and pinch his cheeks. The Projectionist kept struggling, but it was useless. Joey was having the time of his life, unlike literally everyone else in the studio.

“Did your visions see this?” Joey smiled wide, forcing the Projectionist against the wall. “Did your visions show you how badly you would fail?” The Projectionist made a whirring noise that almost sounded like a whimper. 

“I’ve done it.” Joey continued, his smile so wide now it almost looked manic. “They’re all mine now. Everyone in this studio belongs to me. I’ve won.” Norman didn’t exactly have a face anymore, but if he had Joey’s would have been inches from his. Joey’s eyes were glowing an unearthly red. 

“ ** _Not even your visions could save you. You couldn’t save anyone_.**” 

.

Grant didn’t really understand what was happening. His mind felt fuzzy and his body felt cold. Cold like he was underwater in a freezing lake. He was sure he had to be doing something. He’d been with someone, hadn’t he? What had they been doing? He felt the telltale rise of anxiety. He had to get somewhere safe. His office. He needed to get to his office. Moving was hard. He didn’t know why it was so hard. His body wouldn’t cooperate with him. This made him even more anxious. His thoughts were swimming in his mind, jumbled and incoherent.

He managed to get to his office, but he couldn’t sit down or relax. He was in his safe place, but he didn’t feel safe. His thoughts were still so mixed up. He needed to do something. He needed to find some way to make himself feel better. He started writing on the walls with an ink covered finger, although the writing was rough and rather worse than his usual handwriting. 

**_Time is money_ **

**_Taxes_ **

**_It doesn’t add up_ **

**_48128 Short_ **

**_Money_ **

He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He had to get the thoughts out somehow. He had to get them out. 

That was when Shawn arrived. He’d assumed Grant would come to his office. That was the place that Grant felt the safest in. It stood to reason that, even in his altered state, he would want to go to the place he felt safe. Shawn stopped in the doorway, so relieved he almost wanted to cry. 

“Grant.” He took a step toward the accountant. “I knew I’d find you here. Are you alright?” Grant turned slowly around. A part of him recognized Shawn, and that part kept him from immediately trying to attack. 

“ ** _Sha…wn…_** ” Some ink dribbled down his chin as he spoke, his voice almost a croak. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Shawn smiled, taking another step toward Grant. “I’m sorry for running off like that. You’re probably really scared right now.” Grant made a whimpering sound, nodding slightly. He  **was**  scared. There was a deep primal urge tugging at his consciousness, telling him to attack Shawn, to infect him. To vomit ink down his throat until he choked. But Shawn was his friend. Shawn had always protected him and kept him safe. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Shawn said. “I’m going to protect you now.” But they both knew he was wrong. In the doorway, Searchers were beginning to appear. Grant’s eyes widened. He wanted to cry out. He wanted to warn Shawn of the threat. But he couldn’t force any sounds out. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to force himself to speak.

“ ** _Sha…wn…_** ” He croaked as the Searchers advanced on his friend. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Shawn looked on the verge of tears. “I’m here.” 

Then the Searchers overtook Shawn. They dragged him down, pinning him to the ground and doing exactly what Grant had felt so compelled to do. They held his arms and legs, vomiting ink down his throat. Shawn struggled and fought back for a bit, but he knew there was nothing he could do, and so he soon grew still. A wave of frustration, fear, and sorrow overtook Grant and he began to panic. He threw the contents of his desk onto the floor, screeching at the top of his lungs. Unbeknownst to him, when he threw the objects to the ground, he happened to turn on a tape recorder that had been on his desk. 

The sounds captured on that tape were frankly horrifying. They were like nothing anyone would have ever heard before. In his state of intense emotion, Grant was no longer capable of coherent speech. All he knew was that his friend was being hurt and he could do nothing to stop it. The Searchers paid him no mind. He was one of them already, after all. No need to attack him.

It didn’t take long for the infection to take hold and Shawn to come back. The other Searchers left, but Shawn remained. Some unconscious part of him wanted to stay with Grant. He’d wanted to protect Grant, and so he would continue to do so. Grant’s emotions were starting to fade once more and he moved closer to Shawn, whimpering quietly. Grant rested his head against Shawn’s, making a comforting noise. 

In the days that followed, he and Grant stayed together for the most part. They patrolled the corridors with Lacie, always together. Lacie herself would sometimes visit Bertram when she wasn’t with Grant and Shawn and Joey wasn’t having her doing things. She still remembered Bertram. Bertram didn’t mind her company, occasionally talking to her. He knew she probably couldn’t understand her, but it made him feel better to talk to her anyway. Rarely, very rarely, she regained her sapience and they would reminisce about old times and complain about Joey. It made their torment a little more bearable.


	4. Chapter 4

[@bornoffireandwisdom](https://tmblr.co/myH-MF-wbGw8vQixb2Vh0zA) had a few more ideas for Outbreak, so here we go again. This’ll probably be the last one. 

Once more Scientific Journalist Murray Hill belongs to [@circus-craze](https://tmblr.co/m_vPXc3ZA7vlQj-W5J7EIOg)

* * *

Somehow, Wally was still kicking. He’d been infected, yes, due all the scratches and bites Sammy had delivered to him, but he hadn’t yet succumbed to the ink. As such, he’d taken to pitifully limping after Sammy to make sure his friend didn’t hurt anyone else. Most everyone was infected at this point, so his attempts at protection didn’t serve much of a purpose. Except to make Sammy feel even worse about the situation. He was still essentially trapped in his head, watching as his body moved without his input.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” Wally said. Sammy had stopped moving for the moment, so Wally had slumped against a wall. He looked awful. Ink was dribbling out of his mouth and he was pale and sweaty. His breathing had been shallow for quite a while now and when he moved he had to do so slowly. The scratches on his arms and face were bleeding black, not red.

**_I’m sorry, Wally. I’m so sorry._**  Sammy sobbed from within his mind. He already felt bad enough about hurting the other employees. But Wally was his best friend. Wally had been there for him for the majority of his life. No matter what, Wally had never abandoned him. Even now, when he was slowly dying because of what Sammy had done to him, Wally still wouldn’t leave him.

“You’re not a bad guy, I know you’re not.” Wally continued. “This is all probably Joey’s fault.” He laughed weakly. “When crazy stuff happens, he’s usually behind it, y’know?”

He was cut off as he launched into a fit of coughing, hacking up some large blobs of ink. Sammy didn’t flinch at this, at least not outwardly. He’d seen others succumb to the infection before.

“Aw geez.” Wally groaned. “This is even worse than that time I got chickenpox.” Sammy didn’t react, continuing to stare ahead like a machine on standby. 

“Man, you’re even quieter than you usually are.” Wally laughed once more, again interrupted by a coughing fit. He went quiet for a bit, coughing intermittently. 

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” He finally said, looking up at his friend. “I never should’ve let this happen to you.”

**_I’m the one who should be apologizing._**  Sammy sighed.  ** _I did this to you. I hurt you. I hurt everyone. You didn’t do anything wrong._**

“I mean, I know there’s probably nothing I could’ve done to stop it, but…Still…” Wally smiled. “You’re my best friend. I told myself I’d always keep you safe.” His eyelids were beginning to flutter now. His strength was ebbing. 

“Y’know, I’m feeling pretty tired now.” He feigned a yawn. “I think…I think I’m gonna take a nap.”

**_No! Don’t go to sleep!_** Sammy tried to force the words out. You’ll die if you sleep!

“Just gonna…Take a quick…rest…” Wally mumbled, laying down. Soon enough, he was fast asleep. Sammy watched his chest rise and fall in a constant rhythm. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Leave it to Wally to fall asleep in the middle of an apocalypse. He’d always envied how incredibly carefree Wally could be.

“ ** _Sleep…Well…_** ” He croaked, leaning down to pat Wally’s head. 

.

Elsewhere, Joey had departed from level 14 to check up on Murray. He was in a particularly good mood after his successful taunting of Norman and wanted to check on Murray’s progress to further boost his mood. He was sure Murray had made some observations, especially since practically the entire studio was infected by this point. 

“Mr. Hill, how are things coming along?” He asked, striding into Murray’s makeshift lab. The scientist was standing off a Searcher who’d been placed on a table, just staring into the creature’s eyes.

“Mr. Hill?” Joey stopped just behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Murray yelped, stumbling away from both the Searcher and Joey. He would have fallen into a small clump of Searchers (they’d formed a little lump, almost like they were huddling together) if Joey hadn’t caught him by the arm. 

“Is something wrong, Mr. Hill?” Joey raised an eyebrow as he set Murray back on his feet. “You’re awfully jumpy.”

“Oh, um, I’m fine.” Murray laughed nervously, starting to visibly sweat. “What, um, what can I do for you?”

“I came to check on your progress.” Joey withdrew his hand, his expression remaining skeptical. “I do hope everything is going well.” There was an underlying threat to his words that made Murray whimper quietly.

“Everything’s going great!” Murray clapped his hands together. “The infection is progressing very well!”

“Do they have any lingering control?” Joey asked, casting a glance back at the clump of Searchers. 

“I…don’t believe so.” Murray looked back at the Searchers as well. “They seem to lose all sense of self and individuality when the infection takes over.”

“And do they follow orders?”

“I haven’t tested that yet,” Murray admitted. “You’re the one they’re supposed to listen to, so I couldn’t really do it without you.”

“Well, I know at least one listens to me.” Joey smiled gleefully as a shape rose from the floorboards. It didn’t look any different than any of the other Searchers, but Murray figured it had to be  _someone_ important. Why else would Joey be keeping them with him?

“You’ve been remarkably cooperative, haven’t you, Miss Benton?” Joey cooed, patting the Searcher’s head. Murray’s stomach dropped. 

“Miss…Benton?” Murray asked. 

“Yes.” Joey gave him an eerie smile. “She put up quite a fight, but in the end, I won.” His glee was decidedly unsettling, cementing Murray’s belief in the inevitability of his own death. 

“I still need to make sure the others are falling in line, though.” Joey’s smile vanished as he shifted to a more businesslike state. “We can’t have any pockets of resistance.”  ** _We_**. There was no we, Murray thought bitterly. There was only Joey. 

He stood to the side as Joey began to test the obedience of the assembled Searchers. He smiled at the appropriate times, trying to hide his growing fear and unease. It was sickening watching Joey jerk these people around like puppets on a string. These  _ **were**_  people he reminded himself. They weren’t mindless slaves. They had lives and feelings and dreams. And Murray had helped take all of that away from them. Joey’s voice broke him from his brooding. 

“I must say, Mr. Hill, I’m impressed.” He said as the Searchers moved across the room. “Your virus has done everything you promised and more.”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied, Mr. Drew.” Murray smiled shakily. “But how do you know they’re following orders? All you’ve really done is make them move around the room.”

“I can see through their eyes,” Joey replied, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Not just the ones in here. I can see through all of their eyes. Trust me, they’re following orders.” 

“Ah.” The word was short and clipped as if he’d had to force it out. More a vocalization than an actual word, really. Just what on Earth was Joey making them do?

Suddenly, two Searchers entered. To Murray’s horror, the ink hadn’t covered enough of their bodies for them to be recognizable. It was Shawn Flynn and Grant Cohen. Both had very clearly transitioned into being Searchers, judging from their eyes and the bulging black veins across their bodies, but the ink was still consuming them. One of Grant’s legs had already been turned to ink, so he limped as he followed Shawn in.

“Oh, look, Miss Benton!” Joey pointed gleefully at the sorry pair. “Your friends are part of our family now! Isn’t that nice?” Murray felt sick at seeing Joey’s joy. Would Joey be that delighted at _his_ demise? He felt as though he already knew the answer to that question. Even if he never wronged Joey, this was the fate awaiting him. Death and ink.

“Mr. Drew…Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Joey stopped what he’d been doing, essentially making the corruption on Shawn and Grant speed up, and turned to Murray. 

“Not having second thoughts, are you?” He asked. His smile was sweet on the surface, but Murray couldn’t help but feel that there was danger lurking below that sweetness.

“No! Not at all!” Murray put his hands up in defense. “It’s just…Some of the employees have been, well, cursing me? And you?”

“Don’t pay them any mind.” Joey waved his hand dismissively. “They simply don’t understand.”

“Of course, of course.” Murray let out a high pitched laugh. “So, um, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I think that’s enough for today.” Joey patted his shoulder. “Keep up the good work, Mr. Hill.” He gave him a wink before disappearing out the door. 

It took Murray a moment or two to remember that he had to breathe after Joey left. He took a few deep breaths, leaning against the wall.

“What am I doing?” He murmured. He got no answer.

.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. He’d fallen asleep and now everything was…weird. Not necessarily bad, but…weird. His head felt all fuzzy and he couldn’t necessarily remember what had happened to him that day. He was pretty sure he might have gone for a swim? He remembered a lot of liquid. Oh well, it was probably fine. Everyone was acting rather strange, though. A lot of people were crying and screaming, especially when they saw him. Some other people were also attacking the screaming and crying people. Jack stayed away from those people. He’d never really liked conflict.

He started to make his way through the studio, unsure of where exactly he was going. He just sort of wanted to wander. His songwriting area had been flooded, so he couldn’t really hang out there. He had to find somewhere else to go. Somewhere quiet. Jack had always liked the quiet. He was a rather shy person, so he tended to prefer staying away from large crowds. There were more crowds than there usually were. He wasn’t sure why everyone was clumping together like this. Didn’t they have work to do? Well, he probably had work to do too. But if Sammy needed him for something he could come find him.

He ended up in the Heavenly Toys area. It looked rather like a fight had happened. Cutouts were broken, there was ink everywhere, and some of the shelves had been knocked over. Jack frowned. What on Earth could have done this? That was when he heard the sound of someone crying. 

“It’s okay, Alli, we’re going to be okay.” Another soft voice came from further in. It was coming from behind the shelves, through the door to the Alice Angel meet and greet area. Jack oozed through the cracks and into the room (although he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d done that) to see who was crying. 

He found Allison and Thomas sitting on the ground with their backs against the window to Alice Angel’s area. They both looked exhausted. Their clothing was ripped and covered in ink, they had scratches and bites all over their bodies, and their hair was disheveled and wild. Allison was the one who was crying, although Thomas looked as though he was seriously considering it himself. Thomas had a pipe laying beside him while Allison had a sword propped up next to her. 

Jack made a concerned noise, moving closer. Almost immediately, the couple’s attention snapped to Jack. Before he knew what was happening, they both had their weapons raised.

“What do you want?” Allison demanded, pointing the sword toward Jack. Jack whimpered, backing away. He’d never considered Allison to be an intimidating person, but seeing her with a sword that she very clearly knew how to use definitely changed that. 

“Did Joey send you to finish us off?” Allison advanced on him, only to falter and almost fall. Thomas quickly caught her, gently lowering her to the ground. 

“If you’re here to finish us off, do it.” Thomas didn’t even look at Jack as he spoke. “We can’t fight anymore.” Jack made another concerned noise, moving closer to put a hand on Allison’s shoulder. She jerked away and he withdrew his hand. 

“Why aren’t you attacking us?” Allison asked, turning a bit so she could see Jack better. 

Jack frowned. Why **would**  he attack them? He wasn’t violent. The sound he made was indignant. At least, it was supposed to be. It was hard to communicate using only sounds. Why couldn’t he talk?

“He’s biding his time,” Thomas grumbled, although there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“I…I don’t think he’s like the others.” Allison gently disentangled herself from Thomas and scooted over to Jack. “Are you hurt us?” 

Jack fervently shook his head, almost dislodging his hat. 

“You…really aren’t here to hurt us?” Thomas asked. Jack shook his head again.

“I think I recognize this hat.” Allison patted Jack’s hat. “Is that you, Jack?”

“Fain? The songwriter?” Thomas frowned. Jack nodded excitedly, clapping his hands together and making happy noises. 

Allison’s expression softened. “It’s good to see you, Jack.” 

Jack wanted to ask what had happened, but he felt like it would be rude to force them to relive whatever horrors they’d already gone through. Not to mention, he couldn’t really talk. So he stayed with them, providing silent companionship. Although Thomas was still wary, he allowed Jack to sit near them as they returned to their position under the window. There wasn’t much talking to be done. Jack  **couldn’t**  talk, and Allison and Thomas seemed too tired to talk. 

“I guess we’re going to die here, huh?” Allison let out a laugh that failed to sound anything but mournful. 

“I guess we are.” Thomas was stoic, as always, but Jack could have sworn he saw a faint tremble in the other man’s lip. Jack touched their legs as if to assure them that he was there.

“Thank you, Jack.” Allison smiled slightly and patted his head. “You’re a sweetheart.” Jack made a happy trill, perking up at her praise. 

As the minutes slowly passed, Jack could hear the couple’s heartbeats slowly getting weaker. They were drifting in and out of consciousness, holding each other’s hands. It had only really just hit Jack that they were going to die. He’d heard them say it, heard them discuss it, but he’d just now realized it. He whimpered, curling up between the two of them. He didn’t know them all that well, but he didn’t want them to die. They seemed like nice people. Even Tom, for all his gruffness, didn’t seem like a bad guy. He seemed more fed up with Joey than anything else. Was this what had happened to the other people? Was this what had happened to him?

Eventually, the heartbeats stopped. Jack whimpered, prodding at their bodies. When prodding didn’t work, he started shaking them gently. He knew it wouldn’t do any good. But still…He hoped they’d jolt back to life. That Thomas would tell him not to get so close. But they didn’t. They just laid there. Cold. Still. Jack felt rather like crying. He’d never seen a dead body before, much less two. He’d watched them die. Dear gods,  _he’d watched them die_. 

It was a little longer before Joey appeared. Jack flinched away, whimpering. Joey was giving off an aura that he really wasn’t comfortable with. 

“My my, Mr. Fain. Did you finish the deed?” Joey asked, striding in. Jack whimpered again, pressing himself into a corner. 

“Ah, well.” Joey turned his back on him, grabbing Allison and Thomas by the ankles. “I have some work to do. I hope you’ll excuse me.” He departed, dragging the bodies on the ground. Jack stayed where he was long after Joey was gone. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. He wanted to go back to his safe place. He wanted to be safe again. 

He disappeared into a puddle, going back to the sewers. He wanted to stay there. Stay there until the fears and memories went away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Go check out the story that inspired this, as well as bornoffireandwisom's work on Tumblr. She's got a blog for her au called askthesaudadecharactersbatimau


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